


home

by thir13enth



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Mentions of PTSD, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Shiro Week 2016, hurt comfort and moving forward, mentions of alzheimer's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8644837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth
Summary: at least the stars are still the same.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for [Shiro Week 2016](blackpaladinweek.tumblr.com), prompt: sky/stars

If there is one thing that Shiro doesn't expect, it's that nothing is the same.

.

.

He had spent all his time trapped on a Galran battleship — fighting for life, struggling to breathe, barely getting enough to survive — and every night he would look at the sky through the slits of the bars of his jail cell hoping for the one day he would be able to see again the constellations that he used to sleep under in the hot summer days on Earth.

Captive on that ship, he didn't know the names of any of the stars in that sky.

Out in the middle of nowhere he wanted to be and nowhere he belonged, he would hang onto the hope that he could come back home —

to where his mother would insist that he combed and slicked his hair back so that he looked less like a boy and more like a man;  
to where he would wake up much too early to go to class at the garrison, stressing out over upcoming flight competency exams;  
to where he could walk down the street to the corner shop if he was craving spearmint gum or a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream;  
to where the biggest inconvenience of the day was when the gas machine didn't take his credit card —

he would take that any day over this cold dark place in the middle of space among stars he couldn't even name.

Imprisoned, the days were long. The nights were short.

His dreams kept him surviving.

Asleep, he felt more alive.

.

.

And then one day — years and years later — he's suddenly back on Earth.

The warm sun on his back, the smell of soft soil on his fingertips, the feel of cool rain on his skin is something that still feels so surreal.

He's not sure if he's alive or if he's dead, if he's awake or if he's sleeping, how he got here or why is he is back — but he is sure as hell at much more peace now, and he is not questioning a single second of it.

He will take anything over whatever was before.

After is now, and after is so much better.

Now, he occasionally has to attend therapy sessions. He talks about things he doesn't really want to talk about, and he remembers things he doesn't really want to remember. He doesn't want to be there, but he knows that he has to be — it's what the doctors say, it's what the psychologists say, it's what he knows at the very heart of his guarded soul.

Now, every other week, he consults the air force when he doesn't really feel adequate enough to (after all, what kind of a commander leaves comrades to die?) and listens in on meetings that he doesn't really want to attend (every time he hears 'Galra' still makes his bones shiver) — just because he's Takashi Shirogane — the _one_ that survived after _that_ unfortunate Kerberos mission, the one that ended up with a _Galran_ arm stuck to his right side.

Now, the days are short. The nights are long.

His dreams keep him awake.

He's afraid to close his eyes because he's afraid of what memories the dark will bring.

It's fine though, now. Everything is fine. 

But nothing is the same.

His mother doesn't remember how to tie her shoes or how to tend to the tomatoes in her backyard. Sometimes she forgets how old he is, and that he doesn't go to junior academy anymore. She can still make the same miso soup and roll the best onigiri but even this he eats with the salt of guilt.

His classmates have graduated and moved on. Several of them are still in the city. They ask to catch up over coffee or lunch, but they don't really know what to say to him ("Oh, right, you weren't there.") They have families to take care of, mouths to feed. Some of them have ended up working day after day, tiredly — and according to word of mouth, others of them have ended up jobless, depressed, or dead. ("You haven't heard yet, I guess.")

The grocery store that was just down the street has closed down. In fact, all grocery stores have closed down. And Shiro still doesn't know how to order his week's groceries using whatever application on whatever tablet was invented since he'd last been on Earth. And then when he finally gets someone to help him to operate it, he can't find that one spearmint gum he craves nor that flavor of ice cream of chocolate chip cookie dough — everything else tastes dull and non-memorable. 

Gas stations are a thing of the past. Everything is plugged in. Everything glows a faint luminescent blue. Everything is just a screen.

He looks away when his eyes hurt from the strain.

.

.

He's been staring at this screen for the past ten minutes. He pokes around the interface, but there isn't a button that is getting him anywhere. 

He finally gives up. He looks over to the teenager sitting to the right of him. The teen is wearing a cadet suit — one with the same logo as the one he used to proudly wear, but not at all of the same material or style.

He takes a breath and stretches out his tablet to the adolescent.

"Hey," he asks. "Do you mind helping me out? I'm trying to get a taxi."

He still doesn't trust himself to take the wheel of any moving vehicle, and he still hasn't read any of manuals for digital cars.

The teen gives him a judgmental look.

"Geez, how old _are_ you?" the teen teases. "Have you been living under a rock or something? Where have _you_ been all this time?"

But then the glint of his metal arm catches the cadet's eye.

"O-oh! Sorry," the adolescent apologizes immediately. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you were —"

Shiro doesn't really care. 

"It's fine," he says.

The cadet goes through the rest of the motions for him. "Um... where are you going?"

"San Francisco Counseling and Resource Center," he answers.

"O-okay," the teen says, handing him back his tablet. "I should have that all set up for you."

"Thanks."

"I'm sorry. Really sorry."

"It's fine," he assures the cadet. 

Silence befalls the two of them, and Shiro finds his eyes turning up towards the night sky. 

The stars comfort him.

.

.

Everything has changed — but at least when he looks up at the sky, he can still name all the stars.

And that's how he knows he is home.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been thinking a lot about prison, and how the world is so different when you're finally free. you were living in a world set apart from the rest of society for so long — can you expect yourself to adjust to this new world? this new one that was once your own? this new one that was once home but not quite anymore?
> 
> but enough of that, thanks for reading, and please do share your thoughts! i would love to hear them.


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